Facing Demons
by ChoCedric
Summary: Ron's point of view of the scene where he destroys the Horcrux in DH. After weeks of trying to return to his friends, what are his thoughts and feelings as he faces his fears head-on?


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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Facing Demons

By: ChoCedric

As Ron Weasley tore the locket off Harry Potter's neck, grabbed the sword of Gryffindor, and helped Harry out of the water, saving him from drowning, he couldn't believe he'd gotten this far. He honestly didn't think he'd be able to return to his friends at all. But the deluminator had unexpectedly saved him, and saved Harry's life as well. Ron was elated that he'd finally reached his friend, and thank Merlin he had, otherwise Harry would have died.

"Are--you--mental?" he panted, as Harry coughed and spluttered. "Why the HELL didn't you take this thing off before you dived?" he continued, holding up the locket.

"It was y-you?" Harry croaked, trembling violently as he pulled on his clothes.

"Yeah," answered Ron, flushing.

"Y-you cast that doe?" Harry asked, sounding shocked.

"What? No, of course not! I thought it was you doing it!" Ron replied. He'd honestly thought that that silver doe was Harry's patronus.

"My patronus is a stag," Harry reminded him.

"Oh yeah. I thought it looked different. No antlers." said Ron, feeling stupid.

After a few moments of silence, Harry asked, "How come you're here?"

Ron felt awful as he looked at Harry, and saw in his face the hardships he'd been through. Harry was definitely in his right to ask Ron why he had bothered to show up again. "Well, I've--you know--I've come back. If ..." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You know. You still want me." Tension hung in the air for a moment; it was as if a barrier stood between them. "Oh yeah, I got it out," he added unnecessarily, holding up the sword. "That's why you jumped in, right?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "But I don't understand. How did you get here? How did you find us?"

"Long story," Ron answered. "I've been looking for you for hours, it's a big forest, isn't it? And I was just thinking I'd have to kip under a tree and wait for morning when I saw that deer coming and you following."

"You didn't see anyone else?"

"No," said Ron. "I ..." He hesitated. "I did think I saw something move over there, but I was running to the pool at the time, because you'd gone in and you hadn't come up, so I wasn't going to make a detour to-- hey!"

For Harry had run into the trees where he had been pointing. "Anything there?" he asked when Harry returned with no one.

"No."

"So how did the sword get in that pool?"

"Whoever cast the patronus must have put it there," Harry answered logically.

The two friends looked at the sword, and Ron said, "You reckon this is the real one?"

"One way to find out, isn't there?" said Harry. "Come here." He led Ron over to a rock near a sycamore tree. Ron handed over the Horcrux, but when he made to hand the sword over, too, Harry shook his head and said, "No, you should do it."

"Me?" said Ron, astounded. "Why?"

"Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think it's supposed to be you."

Ron was flabbergasted. He didn't think he deserved to destroy a Horcrux after all the heartache and grief he'd put Hermione and Harry through over the last few weeks. He'd seen the stricken look on Hermione's face when he stormed out of the tent, but he'd gone and totally ignored it.

"I'm going to open it," Harry declared, "and you stab it. Straightaway, okay? Because whatever's in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me."

"How are you going to open it?" asked Ron, true terror gripping at him.

"I'm going to ask it to open, using Parseltongue," replied Harry confidently.

"No!" bellowed Ron. "No, don't open it! I'm serious!"

"Why not?" asked Harry. "Let's get rid of the damn thing, it's been months ..."

"I can't, Harry, I'm serious--you do it ..." protested Ron, absolutely petrified.

"But why?"

"Because that thing's bad for me!" cried Ron, remembering in vivid detail all the horrible things it had made him think. Backing away from the locket, he went on, "I can't handle it! I'm not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff--stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse, I can't explain it, and then I'd take it off and I'd get my head on straight again, and then I'd have to put the effing thing back on--I can't do it, Harry!"

"You can do it," said Harry, his faith in Ron evident in his voice, "you can! You've just got the sword, I know it's supposed to be you who uses it. Please, just get rid of it, Ron."

Ron swallowed, gathering every bit of his strength to do it. Harry using his name had acted like a beacon for him, something to cling to. "Tell me when," he croaked.

"On three," said Harry. Heart pounding painfully in his chest, Ron readied himself. "One," said Harry, "two, three ... open!" The last word came out as a hiss, unintelligible to Ron.

The locket opened, and from the two windows within, dark, handsome eyes appeared. "Stab!" said Harry, and Ron raised the sword in his trembling hands. But before he could plunge the sword into the locket, a voice hissed from out of it.

"I have seen your heart, and it is mine."

"Don't listen to it!" Harry yelled. "Stab it!"

"I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible. ..."

"Stab!" screamed Harry, but Ron was staring into the eyes of who he knew was Tom Riddle, transfixed. "Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter ... Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend ... Second best, always, eternally overshadowed ..."

All the feelings of resentment and inadequacy came rushing back to Ron in torrents. How in the world did Riddle know every single little thing he was feeling? It was unbelievable! He felt shame, hatred, anger, and disgust pour over him like freezing water.

"Ron, stab it now!" Harry bellowed. Ron raised the sword higher, but once again, before he could stab, something happened. Two figures blossomed from within the locket; they were a grotesque version of Harry and Hermione. Ron yelled in shock and backed away. "Ron!" Harry shouted, but it was like a distant echo to the youngest Weasley boy.

Suddenly, the Harry from the locket began to speak. "Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence. ... We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption ..."

"Presumption!" snorted the Riddle-Hermione. "Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?"

"Ron, stab it, STAB IT!" Harry roared, but Ron paid him no attention. He was mesmerized by the couple in the locket, dread mounting with every second.

"Your mother confessed that she would have preferred me as a son," sneered Riddle-Harry, making a pang of overwhelming desperation fly through Ron, "would be glad to exchange ..."

"Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him," crooned Riddle-Hermione, and Ron knew she was right. He was nothing, NOTHING compared to the famous Harry Potter. Horrified, he watched as Riddle-Harry and Riddle-Hermione embraced and kissed each other on the lips. Ron felt like crying, clawing at himself in agony, screaming for all to hear. He gripped the sword and raised it high, his hands shaking more than ever.

"Do it, Ron!" Harry shouted.

For a moment, Ron wanted to do nothing more than stab Harry; he felt a knife of corrosive hatred plunge through him, and he thought, if I just stab Harry, all my problems will be solved. I won't have to compare myself to the famous, beloved hero Harry Potter anymore. But then, sense gripped him, and his conscience caught up with him. What was he thinking? This is You-Know-Who messing with your mind, Ron, he thought frantically. Don't rise to his bait! Stab the locket, not your best friend!

And so he did. The sword plunged into the locket, and it let out a tortured, high-pitched scream. Riddle-Harry and Riddle-Hermione suddenly disappeared, and it was just Ron now, standing there looking at the shattered remnants of the locket. Harry walked over to him, and it was then that Ron realized his eyes were wet with tears. He fell to his knees, shaking with sobs he tried his hardest to suppress, but they tore out of him anyway.

He felt Harry put a hand on his shoulder, and did not throw it off. "After you left," Harry said quietly, "she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn't want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone ..." He stopped for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts.

"She's like my sister," he went on. "I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me. It's always been like that. I thought you knew."

Ron felt a river of relief run through him. The sincerity in Harry's voice did a lot to convince him that this was true. He had never sounded more sure of anything, and this made Ron fully believe him at the moment. He knew it would take time to sink in, though.

Harry hoisted his backpack on, and Ron clambered to his feet. "I'm sorry," he said thickly. "I'm sorry I left. I know I was a ... a ..."

"You've sort of made up for it tonight," assured Harry. "Getting the sword. Finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life."

"That makes me sound a lot cooler than I was," Ron muttered.

"Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was," answered Harry. "I've been trying to tell you that for years." The two friends walked toward each other and firmly embraced.

"And now," said Harry, "all we've got to do is find the tent again."

So as they walked toward their tent, Ron finally felt that he had redeemed himself in Harry's eyes. Now there was only Hermione to deal with. He knew she had a temper on her, and figured she'd be furious. But hopefully, things would blow over soon enough, and everything could go back to normal.

But the important thing was, Ron had faced his demons, and he couldn't help smiling a little as he felt truly adequate for the first time in a long while.


End file.
